


Blood of My Blood Redux

by fatelessfalling, ofhalsen



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: F/F, Intersex Ymir (Shingeki no Kyojin), READ NOTES BEFORE CONTINUING
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-12
Updated: 2021-03-17
Packaged: 2021-03-19 10:28:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,270
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29997975
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fatelessfalling/pseuds/fatelessfalling, https://archiveofourown.org/users/ofhalsen/pseuds/ofhalsen
Summary: A Daenerys and Drogo re-retelling with your favorite lesbians. Zeke Jaeger ran away with an infant Historia Reiss sixteen years ago, midst a war in Marley, with a plan to raise her and regain the throne. It has come time for Historia to be worth all the effort Zeke has put into keeping her alive. In an agreement with the great Khal Ymir, Historia is married off to the horse warlord. Being thrust into this new world, Historia fights to find her personality and be worth the title of Khaleesi of the Great Shifters.
Relationships: Krista Lenz | Historia Reiss/Ymir
Comments: 19
Kudos: 22





	1. The Preparations

**Author's Note:**

> Let's start with the warnings: this piece will contain blood, gore, torture, mentions of rape and incest, sex, and scarification. If you're familiar with GoT and Dothraki, none of this should surprise you, but it is there. 
> 
> Next thing: This is my second time posting this archived roleplay thread. Ofhalsen (inlesbianswithistoria at the time) and I did this thread in real-time over a few months back in 2014/2015, and I love it so much that I want to preserve it. I stopped posting it back in 2019 and didn't touch it for a while. I got back into the groove specifically for this story and wanted to fix it for the developments in SNK and, in general, comb through it and make it better. With that in mind, I haven't read or watched SNK since Ymir was confirmed dead, and Historia is a breeding mare. I have no interest in picking it back up at this time, so please forgive me if some things might be wrong. I'm open to fixing them if you're open to explaining to me why.
> 
> Going back to the roleplay thread comment is why this reads a little funny, and the writing styles are different. I have done my best to make it flow between POV without it being a jerk into another headspace, which is why they're long responses.
> 
> If you wanna talk to us about it, you can find me, Tyler, at @fatelessfalling on Twitter, and Andy you can find at @alwaystheprince!
> 
> TL;DR: ENJOY!

Khal Ymir was revered as one of the most formidable Eotena khals throughout titan culture. She was the first of her name, the first considered female though she kept as much of a masculine appearance as possible and made a name for being ‘one born with two sexes.' Anyone who laid eyes on her could see that she bore the most scars on her skin at a relatively young age. Most khals did not take leadership until they were older. But not Ymir. It was as if she intended to go down as the greatest khal in history.

And she did. She wanted to make sure all the tribes would unite under her, or at least as many tribes as possible. She was no Khal of Khals, but she’d make it easier for whoever did come along and swipe the title. Not that she’d hand it over without a fight, but it’d be an honor to be taken down by someone like that. 

Until then, she was the strongest Eotena warlord, and she planned to keep things that way. Her ancestors would tell her tale and name for generations to come and become the highest mark any future Khal would try to achieve.

The only thing Ymir was missing to cement her legacy was a wife. It couldn’t be any woman she married, though no woman would ever correctly live up to her standards.

No, she needed someone that would strike fear into her people and make her look better. Yet, as Ymir looked at the members of her khalasar, her warriors, the women of the tribe (those that were not warriors - held the same weight as a man without a title), and she saw no one fit enough to take on the role of being a Khaleesi. She had conquered three villages of Lamb folk, and no one from the tribe she had taken down and the one that had tried to take her down - not a single person captured her interest.

So it was safe to say when her adviser and blood of her blood, Marco, spoke to her about a man proposing marriage, she openly scoffed and burst out laughing.

“ _ A man wishes to marry me? _ ” She asked, sincerely amused. An eyebrow raised as she smirked. “ _ Let me speak to this man first before I kill him. _ ”

It was simple: how did anyone have the gall to propose marriage to her? Especially a man. It was insulting to Ymir, at least seeing as she did not like men and had made that clear before. Perhaps the man was an outsider.

Sure enough, as a blonde-haired, pale man that stood at a taller height than she walked into the tent that the tribe had set up for the resting period before the tribe returned to Vaas Eotena. A little intimidating, she would admit, from his height alone and his rather striking features. In response, she tilted her head upwards slightly and adjusted how she sat to establish that she had the power here. 

“Are you Khal Ymir?” The man asked. Ymir looked to Marco in confusion. It was then interpreted to her and caused Ymir to scowl.

What an insult.

“I have a proposition for you. I recall someone mentioning to me that you are  _ respected  _ among your people.” The more Marco interpreted, the more Ymir was getting pissed off. She looked to one of her men as a cue to attack if needed. “I give you a suitable marriage partner, or whatever you people do, and you give me some of your men.” Ymir’s eyes narrowed.

“ _ And what makes you think you are a suitable match for me?  _ ”

As Marco once again translated what she said back to him, the blond man’s expression changed. “You misunderstand me. I’m not here to offer myself to you. I have a bride to offer you.” At this, Ymir pursed her lips, rubbing her chin in thought. “My sister is of Sinian descent, such as myself. While that may not hold much here, she is quite valuable where we are from, throughout the kingdom of Marley.”

Ymir held a hand up, halting her guards. His words, for some reason, struck a spark of curiosity for the freckled khal. Ymir looked to Marco in thought, silently conveying she would check this girl out. Something ridiculous, yes, but if what he was suggesting to be a fair trade.

She was running out of options. Worse came to worse, and she’d have another scar added to her chin for killing an entire palace.

But she was going too long without marrying someone. Most khals did not wait this long to wed. Marco had been bothering her about this not even four nights ago. “ _ … Where can we find this girl? I expect her ready for inspection within a moon.  _ ”

“ _ Remind me again why I am doing this?  _ ” It was more rhetorical than it was a question. No, it was a challenge. Ymir looked over at her adviser while one of the slaves had the honor of washing the khal’s skin with oil. The Eotena warlord locked eyes with her freckled counterpart.

The two had been close when they were children. They remained close now. Marco had a bond with Ymir that the khal could not express with anyone else. It went against their culture to be forgiving or tease much. To be a khal, one needed to strike fear into the hearts of their followers and remain serious. These were two crucial things.

Still, Marco was the only one left of her related family. He was blood. They even shared the same freckled skin. For this reason, when Ymir earned her title as khal, she chose Marco to serve by her side. Was he warrior material? To an extent. In Ymir’s opinion, he was better at communicating, something she lacked the skills to do. The mass culling of people and enslaving the useful ones couldn’t fix all their problems.

The brunet looked up from a scroll he had been examining and remained thoughtful before answering. One always had to watch their wordings with Ymir.

“ _ My Khal, you must wife someone soon. Your father did not wait nearly as long to marry; neither did the khal before him. Your khalship is in question as if it weren’t enough already.  _ ” Though Marco meant well, his words angered Ymir.

“ _ My khalship is being questioned?! I am the strongest warrior among this tribe! I am undefeated, the youngest to take control, and of two sexes! Tell me, how can anyone question my right as khal?  _ ” Ymir leaned in, her eyes maddeningly wide and her expression downright bone-chilling. Except for Marco. Marco kept a neutral face at the mostly empty threat. “  _ No one is worthy enough to sit beside me as a khaleesi to my people. You are lucky you are the blood of my blood, or I’d have cut you down and left you for the dogs.  _ ”

Her own words caused her to laugh, soon joined in by Marco. They knew not to take her short talk seriously when it came to the two of them. Their relation to another was too strong to be severed so easily by words of no meaning.

“ _ She is Sinian. Another new, interesting thing to add to your legend.  _ ”

The caused Ymir to pause, quirking an eyebrow as she turned her head. She hadn’t thought of it that way, and Marco knew it.

The khal raised a hand to stop the slave, who struggled to do as demanded with all the movement.

“ _ This is a waste of my time. If I do not see her fit, we kill them all.  _ ”

* * *

When Historia had arrived in the Summer Isle city, it was beautiful and mystical. Handmaidens spoke of magic and wonder, spun their stories of beautiful women and handsome men who walked the streets dripping in jewel tones and embroidery that took ages to do by hand. They showed lovely blooms as big as her head that gave off the fragrance of sugar cakes that would waft into her quarters by gentle breezes.

The best thing yet was a large river outside of the palace owned by their savior, Lord Nikolas Lovof, that had clear water so deep that the world disappeared.

And for a while, it was as they said from the window of Historia’s chamber where she was forbidden to leave by her uncle, Zeke Jaeger. 

Historia would sit for hours on the balcony, letting the sun warm her shoulders and watch the water and the trees that bowed into them. Season after season, she grew more and more familiar with what she could see from her perch. If she stayed there, Zeke was never upset with her and wouldn’t lay a hand on her.

It was only three months after arriving that she heard the first talks of marriage during breakfast with Zeke and their gracious host. 

_ “You know that in our family, we want a pure bloodline.” He said, a familiar sentence to her in the years that she had been in his care. The Jaeger and Reiss family trees were tightly wound around each other that it was hard to tell where one line ended and the other began.  _

_ Cousins married cousins, and in extreme cases, brothers married sisters to retain the throne. It wasn’t uncommon for an uncle to marry a niece, but all the same, it made her feel violently ill. _

_ The only thing that mattered to Zeke was overthrowing the child usurper, his half-brother, the puppet king for Erwin Smith, and taking it for himself. If that meant keeping Historia as his bride to have the support of the silent majority that cheered for them, he would have no qualms. _

_ “Let’s not be hasty, my king,” Nikolas said, putting down his cup and leaning back in his chair as Zeke eyed him. “I hear of a warlord of the badlands, with over forty thousand soldiers. A wife would be a good way to get people to like you, but perhaps taking back Marley should be the first step.” _

_ As if she wasn’t there, the discussion turned from marrying her vicious uncle to marrying a cruel warlord who had killed thousands. _

In the end, neither choice was favorable. Historia was either a slave to her uncle or a slave to a warlord king.

Today, on the day she would meet her potential future husband, Historia contemplated what her ancestors must have done to curse their child to such a life.

“Historia!” Her uncle’s voice echoed with a light tone, only to be followed by a more commanding voice when she wasn’t waiting for him the moment he spoke.

The blonde slowly got up from her seat on the balcony, lifting the hem of her flowy Isle dress. “You’ve returned, Uncle Zeke,” she said quietly, approaching her uncle with a timid smile and curtsy.

“I have, and with a beautiful gift from Nikolas for the bride.” He held out his arms, showing Historia the dress she would soon wear. “Picked it out himself. The best fabric from an importer from Sina. Go on, touch it!”

Tentatively, she reached up, touching the dress. Indeed it was soft and airy like the dress she was wearing. Perfect for the humid weather of the Summer Isles. “Can I speak freely, uncle?” She asked, looking up at the man. “I don’t want to marry this warlord… Why can I not put my ow–”

She knew she was overstepping the line in doubting her uncle and expected what came next. 

The hand on her chin was tight, fingertips digging into her skin. 

“You are going to marry whoever I say because that is your place, darling.” He said, staring her straight in the eyes until she looked away and to the ground. “I’m going to get us back to Sina and take the throne. If that means marrying you off and letting every last person in the tribe take a turn with you, you’ll do it. Understand?” He released the blonde girl, inspecting her chin for marks.

“Yes, my king.” She replied out of obedience, keeping her eyes down. Historia did her best to keep from wincing as Zeke reached behind her neck to the tie of her dress.

“Now, now, Historia. Don’t look so glum. The Khal is bound to like you. After all, you’ve bloomed this past year so much… You’ve got a women’s body now.” He smirked a little, letting the fabric fall to the floor.

Doing her best to stand still, she took a deep breath and held it as his hand came to rest on her hip. “I need you to be perfect today. Can you do that for me?” He asked, using his gentle tone as he got her to look at him again.

Sometimes, it was almost as if he genuinely cared about her well-being…

Remaining relatively emotionless, she nodded, “Yes,” please stop touching me… She thought, very thankful when one of the handmaidens came in, reminding the older man that the Khal would be there within the hour. 

“Right… Get bathed and ready. Remember what I told you, Historia.” He said, leaving the dress behind.

She stood there until he was out of the room, and his footsteps no longer echoed. Finally able to breathe, she wanted to scrub the skin from her bones. She felt filthy, and the water could not be hot enough when she stepped in against the advice of her handmaiden.


	2. The Meeting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I decided to post the first 2 chapters. Chapter one is a little short for my liking, but they get longer as we go, so... enjoy!
> 
> Chapter TW: mentions of incest and rape.

“Where are they?” Zeke asked, becoming impatient about the wait as he paced about the top landing of the stairs.

Historia tried to refrain from smiling, knowing Zeke seeing it would end badly for her. The last thing she needed was a reddened cheek. 

“They will be here, your grace. The Eotena have never been a punctual tribe.” Nickolas replied, resting his hands in front of him comfortably. “You look lovely, Princess.”

“You flatter me, my lord.” The blonde girl smiled shyly, pulling the skirt to the sides to show off the full effect of how it billowed with the low winds. The dress fit her snuggly, and the color of roses gave her pale complexion life. Her handmaiden had mentioned that the Eotena favored the shade as they spent much time looking at the desert tones and tall grasses.

It was then that she heard the sound of hooves on the ground, announcing the presence of the Eotena she would eventually be a part of if the khal liked her. Hiding behind her uncle as they approached, she looked at the four people in the khalasar. 

They were so wildly different than what Historia was imagining. She was used to flawless skin and perfect hair; Beautiful dresses and clothes made for royalty. The Eotena seemed to have no such standards. Even their horses looked scary. 

Perhaps, that was because Historia was terrified of horses.

Following Nikolas, as he introduced Zeke and Historia, Historia felt her arm get grabbed and held back. A moment later, Zeke was in her ear.

“Look at him, Historia. The one with the most scars. The more scars, the better the warrior. Khal Ymir has never lost a battle.” He said, gesturing to the person in the front.

Historia tilted her head, a tad confused. If Khal Ymir was a male, why was he covering his chest like one of the riders behind him? “Uncle, I don’t think...”

“He’s a savage, of course, but he’s one of the best killers alive.” He continued. “And you will be his queen.”

The idea kept Historia silent. Her words would either upset Zeke or Khal Ymir. As much as she wanted to be anywhere else, she most certainly didn’t want to be dead.

“Come forth, Princess,” Nikolas called, extending a hand. She waited until Zeke let her go, walking toward Nikolas for the khal to get a closer look. Only she didn’t stop at Nikolas. Her curiosity spurred her to go farther, stopping within a few feet of the khal.

Wide dark blue eyes wandered their face. Freckles from the sun, barely tamed hair, scars on almost every inch of their body as tokens of battles won. Ymir was as beautiful up close as any woman, though they masked it with anger. She stood still, her eyes never leaving their face out of shock and awe.

What a sheltered life she must have lived to not know of people like the Eotena.

* * *

The orders were simple enough. Marco agreed before setting out to assemble everything for their trip outward. Marco would accompany Ymir and two warriors she deemed fit from her khalasar, Bertholt, and Porco. As a precaution, Marco had talked Ymir into bringing one of the more talented slaves to leave with the offered bride to prepare her. 

Four of their flashiest horses, with Ymir on the strongest named The Red, they rode. It would be off schedule, but they would arrive at the home of Zeke, the man from yesterday, and his niece. 

As the horses began to slow, Ymir mumbled under her breath a reminder to Marco. “ _ If she is not fit, we kill them all. _ ” 

Yet it was right as soon as the words were out of her mouth was Ymir caught up.

The people from the Eotena tribes were all similar. Darker skin, dark hair, and fiery eye color of sorts. The woman offered to her was nothing like that. Her skin was pale enough to compare to the light of the moon. Her hair was golden like the sun’s rays. Her eyes reminded Ymir of the poison water they kept the horses from drinking. A deep, dark blue color.

Even though she stood somewhat cowering at first, Ymir could sense a spark behind her as they locked eyes. She just needed it ignited. There was something about her; if Ymir saw to it that she was taught how to lead, she’d make a fine Khaleesi. Foreign but beautiful, small yet intimidating.

Ymir was honestly somewhat impressed.

“Khal Ymir, the first of her name, leader of the Eotena.” Marco had introduced, though she tuned out. She was more focused on the beauty before her and finishing her internal assessment.

“ _ Greetings Khal Ymir. _ ” Ymir’s eyes widened but a fraction at the foreigner speaking her tongue and not forcing Marco to do so. Otherwise, her surprise was minimal, and she tried not to show such. “ _ King Zeke Jaeger would like to extend a hand of good faith, in your agreement, and offers his niece, Historia Reiss, as a bride to you. We hope that she is to your liking. _ ”

* * *

First of  **her** name! Historia hadn’t been wrong about the gender of the Eotena leader. Her uncle had preoccupied with selling her off to notice the first time, and this time, as it seemed. Perhaps he did know, and this was his plan to keep their bloodline and his niece pure.

As scared as she was, the Sinian royal was also intrigued. She had heard stories of fierce women who fought in many battles, equally as respected as the men who carried swords. It had been fantasy used to placate troublesome girls, but the authentic example peered down at her, revered for her capability to lead.

For a brief moment, Historia wondered what it was like to have that much control.

“Well? Does he like her?” Zeke asked from behind her, still standing atop the stairs.

His words made her cringe, her eyes breaking from Ymir’s and focusing on the ground. To have such control would rival her uncle, and she would be committing treason.

Nikolas chuckled, though Zeke didn’t understand why. “Why are you laughing? Laughing at the King is–”

“Your Grace, Khal Ymir is a woman whose great power has given her the right to take the title of Khal.” He explained, “I’m not laughing at you, simply trying to lighten the atmosphere as we learn to balance with the Eotena.”

“What do you mean the Khal is a woman?” Zeke asked with hesitation before taking a more detailed look at Ymir, noticing the changes that Historia had known right away. “… No matter. As long as she can still give me warriors, Historia is still available for marriage.”

Nikolas came over, placing a hand on Historia’s shoulder. “If she is to your liking, Khal Ymir, she will return to her uncle until the wedding. You may go back, Princess.”

Eyes still on the ground, Historia nodded, giving Khal Ymir a curtsy as she turned to walk back up to Zeke.

* * *

The conversation focused heavily in a tongue she did not recognize other than its origin. Her name was mentioned, causing her to sit up even straighter if it was possible. The shock and anger coming from the man who had initially visited her forced the khal to scowl.

If he insulted her, Ymir could effortlessly swipe his head clean off with one stroke of her arm. Her arakh was sharp, the sting of the blade capable of creating complete chaos if needed. Her warriors could quickly strike down the weasel, the few slaves they seemed to own -  _ servants, _ Marco would correct her later though they remained slaves in her eyes - and even the girl. And yet she did nothing. She continued to stare openly at the fair maiden that was presented to her.

She was foreign and beautiful. With enough work put into her, she could strike fear into her people as much as a khaleesi could. 

If not, should she bear her a daughter instead of a son, Ymir could denounce her as a wife and move her to the council of crones, where she would raise their child and lose the title of Khaleesi. After that, Ymir could take her time and marry someone new. 

Speaking positively, who was to say things did work out at least somewhat decently, and Ymir was given a son…

It was new and somewhat bold. A statement and a test to Ymir’s khalship. If she could make things look in her favor, even if they did not get along well, her story would only be sung a bit louder and last longer.

The laughing did not improve her mood exactly. But it did make her less passionate about the idea of slaughtering them all. Besides, what would the gain be for that?

Again, there were some advantages here. Maybe the Eotena people would take her more seriously. Room for improvement, but the woman was small and did have a rather exciting body. It looked softer than those she was surrounded by, with decent size hips for childbearing despite her short stature… And she had to be rather tight, especially being a virgin.

All these thoughts only took Ymir a few seconds to think through properly. Ymir made her decision. With a glance at Marco and a tug of her reins, she silently ordered her khalasar to follow her back to camp. 

Marco paused long enough to let the slave girl off his horse and followed behind her. The entire time, as they began to ride again, Ymir held her gaze on the girl she was being promised. Historia Reiss, right?

The sound of retreating hooves forced Historia to scurry to Zeke faster, unsure of what was happening and too afraid to look behind her.

* * *

“Well? Did they like her?! Where are they going?” Zeke shouted with his hand tight around Historia’s forearm.

Another laugh came from Nikolas as he came back up the stairs, extending a hand to ask them to walk with him. “My king, if Khal Ymir not approved of your offer, her head would’ve been left at your feet.”

Historia paused, her hand reaching up to touch her neck. As striking as the woman on the horse was, it was horrifying to think that she could’ve been killed for something as insignificant as not being thought of as worthy of marriage. The more she thought about the issue, the worse she felt.

“How long until we know she has accepted? When will the wedding take place?” Zeke walked side by side with Nikolas, leaving Historia to trail behind and listen.

“The Eotena don’t stay put for long. I would expect an answer tonight and a wedding before the new moon.”

Historia quietly counted the days, realizing that there would only be four days until the wedding. Her footsteps came to a stop, trying to find her voice and the right words that wouldn’t anger Zeke.

“Uncle… Do we need Khal Ymir to get an army?” She asked, keeping herself as emotionless as possible. “Lord Nikolas has spoken of many people who drink secret toasts to your health and pray for our family’s return to the throne… Maybe if we had someone go back to Sina to find those people, we could go home–”

“Dear, sweet darling,” Zeke sighed, turning back to approach Historia. A gentle hand came up to sweep her hair out of her face, resting on her cheek after. “Your marriage will guarantee me ten thousand soldiers to take back the throne. If I marry you to Khal Ymir, and she decides to let every soldier, horse, and dog take you, then that’s what you’ll do so we can return home.” His voice was sweet, but the threat within it made her stomach turn sour.

If the khal would’ve taken her head off, who was to say that she wasn’t capable of such an act as well? Historia cast her eyes to the ground, on the verge of tears.

“You there - what did they leave you for?” Zeke asked, peering behind Historia.

The blonde turned around, having not been aware of the young woman being left behind. She was far more kind in her face than the khal had been. Her hair was browner than black like the khals and tied up higher on her head.

“For the future khaleesi,” she responded with a thick accent, uneasy at being addressed. Historia and the Eotena tribe member shared a look, and Historia gave her a small smile in hopes of calming her down.

“Great, another handmaiden,” Zeke muttered under his breath as he mulled over the new information before turning around and continuing to walk. “The princess will show you her chambers, and you are to make sure she rests.”

“Ai.” The woman answered, glancing back to the blonde before bowing her head to allow her to lead the way.


	3. The Nerves

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: mentions incest, grooming. Explicit verbal and physical abuse. Vague suicidal thoughts. This is just bonus material, not integral to the plot, so if any of that will bother you, please skip. I will be posting chapter 4 at 7 PM EST.

There was little for Historia to do with planning her wedding, but what she did have control over felt insurmountable. 

Historia picked up the hem of her wedding dress a few times, letting it fall at her feet as she looked at her reflection in the tall mirror. The dress was immaculate, as were all gifts from Nikolas. The fabric felt weightless, like water beneath her fingers, and shone like spun gold in the sunlight. The cut and fit were as she dreamed it would one day be, modest but lovely. 

Staring at herself in the mirror, she embodied her princess’s title for the first time in her eyes.

All the same, it felt wrong. Nobility married for political advantages more often than not, but it was to someone who spoke the common language, with whom they could build a relationship. Perhaps not fall in love with, but they could certainly come to trust and create a family together. This arrangement was none of those things. 

She and the khal had nothing in common. Not a language, not a thought, not a shared history in which they could bond. 

It wasn’t as if she had been looking forward to marrying her uncle, but Zeke was the monster she knew. 

Historia could remember a time when he wasn’t who he was now. Zeke had always had a curious mind who used his knowledge and intellect to secure safety for them. 

There was a house on a hill of a free city that Historia had long since forgotten that they spent the first few years of her life. During the day, she would learn with her nanny and play around the apple tree that grew right outside the front door. Her uncle would go and plan their siege with the ‘allies’ that he had made. 

At night, he would come home and scoop her up in his arms to tuck her into bed, sending her to sleep with stories of the families in Sina and how they would one day soon return.

The happiness only lasted for a brief time. As the coin Zeke brought began to dwindle, he could no longer afford the sellsword he hired to protect them and left them vulnerable to the house staff that would eventually rob them of everything they had. Zeke was run out of the city with Historia in tow and spent the next several years traveling by foot, sleeping in alleyways and the wayward brothel when he could scrape together the funds.

His dreams never changed, though. He would pet Historia’s hair while holding her protectively, whispering in her ear that it would only be temporary that they lived the way they did. One day soon, he would be king, and she would be his queen. It was just as she got older, more curious herself that he started to shift into the man she knew.

Her wit was no longer appreciated, often earning her a backhand. If she dared to complain as children did, he would starve her of meals. Historia learned how to please her uncle to avoid most of his anger and paranoia, but he too got worse as he aged.

Reminiscing about the house with the apple tree, the young woman didn’t notice when her uncle joined her in the room.

“You’re every bit as beautiful as I imagined you would be,” Zeke said from over her shoulder. Their eyes met in the mirror before she went back to apathetically looking at her reflection. “You still slouch, though.”

“Thank you, Uncle.” She answered as she straightened up, smoothing the fabric across her legs to do something with her hands.

Zeke stepped up onto the platform, standing behind her to get a better view. She looked up at him, finding that he had shaved the scraggly pieces of his beard, aging him backward significantly. He had let himself go the last few years that Historia often forgot that there was only a decade between them.

Cleaned up, though, Zeke looked every bit the handsome king that he claimed to be.

“You look to be in good spirits,” Historia offered with a smile that pleased him, turning to look at them together. Though their physical traits were similar, their heights were almost laughably different. He stood head and shoulders taller than her frame, where her head barely met his chest. She hadn’t grown an inch since she was twelve, and it was painfully evident in times like this.

“Then you must be smart enough to know that the events that are coming sadden me,” Zeke said, his hand coming up to grasp her shoulder gently. “If things had been different, it would be us. You should’ve been mine.”

The thought hadn’t ceased to make her ill when mentioned. Her uncle’s hand dropped from her shoulder to meet its mate on her waist, holding her to him tightly.

It was true that he scared her, but nothing compared to the fear that the khal put in her upon their first meeting. She didn’t want to marry her - not that she wanted to marry him either, but if the thought of her marrying someone else made him sad, there was a chance he might listen to her and change his mind.

“Uncle, can I speak you to from the heart?” She asked, turning in his hands to look up at him, every bit the child he wanted her to be.

“Historia… Don’t wake the titan.” Zeke warned, looking down at her disapprovingly for a moment.

“Truly, please listen - I don’t want to marry the Khal, Uncle,” Historia spoke up, taking her chance. “We can find a way to buy what we need to get back across the sea--” she paused, wincing as Zeke tightened his grip on her waist, “Lord Nikolas has connections that we can - Uncle, please!”

Zeke continued to hold her tighter and tighter. His fingertips disappeared into the wedding gown’s fabric, and his thumbs were pushing the skin and muscle down into her hips. Eventually, Historia went quiet; Zeke’s will overtaking her brief rebellion.

“Every time I think that you’ve learned a lesson, I’m proven wrong.” He said, his tone almost bored as he kept his grasp harsh, making her squirm in vain attempts to make a getaway. “You are the payment! Do you think we live here free of debt? That Nikolas dotes on you because he’s a giving man? He would’ve sooner sold you off to a whorehouse, and I regret not allowing it.”

Tears started to well up in Historia’s eyes, blurring her vision. All thought had failed her as she scrambled to say something to get Zeke to release her. 

“Uncle, please! You’ll bruise me before the wedding! The Khal will be suspicious!” She said breathlessly. Her uncle released her hips slowly, and she crumbled into herself to regain her breath that his pain had stolen. 

“A titan does not concern himself with the worries of a savage.” Historia craned her head to see him as he spoke but didn’t meet his eyes. Zeke knelt to be at nearly her height, petting her cheek with what one could’ve easily mistaken for affection. “You worry for almost nothing, darling. We only need her as far as getting home. Once I’m on the throne, I’ll have her killed, and you’ll belong to me as it always meant to be.

“When they talk about my rise to power, it’ll begin with your sacrifice today.” Zeke tilted her to look at him properly. As calm as he was when he walked into the room, his eyes held a familiar craze that Historia brought upon herself.

Historia nodded gently, not trusting her voice to respond with firm conviction in his claims.

“Now, wipe your eyes, and stand up straight.” He commanded, and Historia did as he said, standing on shaky legs in front of him. She steeled herself internally as he put his hands on her again, posing her how he wanted her. “Straight, Historia. By slouching, you’re hiding what the Khal wants, and Gods know you have too little for a woman your age.”

No matter what she did, Historia would never be enough.

“This won’t do.” Scowling, Zeke stepped back before reaching up to rip the lace out of the neckline that Historia had adored to make it more to his liking. “You’ll fix the threads before the wedding and put on a smile for everything. We don’t want the Khal to think you’re not an eager bride, do we?”

“No, we don’t.” Her mouth spoke of its own accord. She felt, not for the first time, separate from her body—an observer of her own life. 

Zeke ran a hand down her leg, lost in his thoughts, before turning to leave. Once he was past the threshold, the Eotena handmaiden walked in, her steps quiet but hurried.

“How much of it did you see?” The blonde asked after a few moments of silence. She held herself as the handmaiden stepped up onto the mirror stage to help Historia out of the gown. 

“Enough that if you would’ve called me, I would’ve been there to stop him,” she answered. Soft doe-brown eyes caught hers in the mirror, reflecting the concern that made Historia uncomfortable.

“Interference would only have made it worse,” Historia said, shrugging out of the bodice of the dress and pushing it over her hips. “You should avoid my uncle, but I do appreciate that you would protect me if asked.”

“You’ll be the Khaleesi. There will be hundreds of people ready to do the same before you could ask.” The handmaiden said politely, sweeping the bottom of the dress from the floor so it wouldn’t drag across the marble.

As was her role as the future queen of a horde, Historia supposed. It wasn’t out of endearment. It would only be because of her title.

“Please forgive me. We haven’t had much time to speak privately. What is your name?” Historia asked as she grabbed her formerly discarded tunic and pulled it over her head. She didn’t revel in having people care for her as she had always cared for herself, but if she was truthful about protecting her, Historia wanted to know her better.

“Sasha, your grace,” she said with a smile, watching as Historia walked over to the ledge of her room that Sasha found her more often than not. 

Perched in her favorite place, Historia looked out over the free city. There had been plenty of times that the ground sang a song to her soul to join it, but as her wedding day drew nearer, the louder the urge to throw herself off the balcony became.

“Sasha?” Historia called out, taking one more look at the distance between her and the unforgiving but alluring ground, “tell me about the horde and anything else. I can’t stand the silence…”

With a request that Sasha could do, the tawny-haired girl happily obliged, taking a seat with her mistress to fill her in on what she needed to know until long after the sun had set in the sky.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Does anyone else find it endlessly funny that Historia, as a 17-year-old, is only 4'9ish (145 cm)? Initially, when I saw it in my head, I was like, 'yeah, she's short, but it's at least manageable,' but no, Zeke is a whole foot and some odd inches taller than her, and I can't handle it.


	4. The Wedding

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: mentions of death, uh... slight CNC? It'll make sense in the end.

What little time was left before the wedding was a blur.

Sasha took the time to teach Historia their customs, their rites of passage, their language. She had been coached through the ceremony multiple times and minimal Eotena to reply for the one time she was to say something.

All of this was in preparation for her to be a complacent Eotena Warwife.

The day of, Historia had utterly shut down. She was present at her wedding, yet mentally she was back in the hovel of a home she remembered from her childhood. The last place she remembered being happy. The motions were rehearsed, leaving no room for her to question what she needed to do.

Even now, Historia sat on a seat of furs and pelts, staring ahead at the disorganized chaos. The people were loud, and the Eotena were rowdy. Their woman walked around exposed, and people were yelling at one another in a language she didn’t understand. It was only after another death in front of her eyes did she hone back into the moment.

Lord Nikolas had explained that an Eotena affair without at least three deaths was considered dull. Her wedding must have been blessed as before the day was over, she would learn of at least a dozen more.

She stole a glance at her wife, then returned her attention to her role: accepting gifts on behalf of the khal and them as a pair. Crates, chests, boxes, and barrels had been stacked beside, most of their contents already forgotten to the newly crowned khaleesi. 

As the sun reached its lowest point, it was time for her gifts, and she was no more enthused than she had been for the others. First was Zeke, who graciously gifted her Sasha. The women shared a knowing look, but Historia said nothing beyond her thanks.

Following Zeke was a man from Sina who Historia had only seen in brief moments during the wedding. He was tall and muscular, like the knights in stories that her tutor once told her. She had been gifted a set of books and learned that the man’s father served and protected under her own and his ally. Reiner Braun was his name if she heard him correctly. The books were of home, Sina, that she had never been. It was a kind gesture, as he additionally committed his sword and fealty to Zeke and their endeavor to retake Sina.

Lastly, her favorite gift was brought to her feet, her eyes brought back to it any time she looked away too long. Lord Nikolas gifted her three large crystal eggs that sat in straw and silk - one amber, one green, and one smokey grey, reflecting the sunlight through them, though the fetus inside was nothing more than a black cloud within them.

Her eyes traced the beautiful glass-encased creatures. Zeke had always told her that Kyojin had been extinct, and their eggs long since destroyed, yet here laid three. It was a piece of her history… It was a gift she adored.

* * *

It took not long to prepare the wedding itself, though a bit to remind Ymir briefly how to go about the ceremony. It wouldn’t be too long, as she needed to give her tribe an extended amount of time to party and fuck another as long as her khalasar wanted to with the other women. 

A feast was customary during a khal’s marriage, and a neighboring tribe or two would stop by to wish them well and give tribute. There were nobles, which Ymir did not care for but did accept the gifts, or instead, her wife did.

Wife. She had a wife. Ymir hadn’t seen herself settling down for a lot longer. During their raids, Ymir took the pleasure of being serviced often by a woman she may deem worthy. There was no reason for her to settle down.

As she felt the gaze of the blonde on her once again, only to turn away again, Ymir spoke, trying to break the tension between them slightly. “ _Iteo akkah._ ” 

Oh, right. The girl didn’t speak Eotena. 

Ymir didn’t know any Sinian or whatever it was called herself. She knew one word, which was the word that meant to deny something or stop any action. Refusal. Something like that.

Before them, two members of her lower-class warrior fought over a woman wearing nothing as they wanted to dance and have their way with her. The argument got heated, and quickly a blade was drawn. The sick sweet smell of blood met her nostrils, and the sight of the other man’s guts spilling out onto the dirt followed. No one reacted, just went about their business as soon the victor took the woman from behind gratefully. Ymir smirked at the action before her.

Their wedding was a successful celebration. Marco seemed to agree with a simple nod, and Ymir’s thoughts would be voiced aloud though she would not understand such at the time.

“Two more deaths, and this will be up to par with your father’s, Khal Ymir!” The Lord she recognized as Nikolas spoke. Marco translated. Good sentiments. 

Her father had been a respected khal and had a legendary celebration during his wedding. Hopefully, it would kick up more. 

Sure enough, given a little longer, another death was counted, much to the amusement of the khal.

The gifts presented to the couple held no interest to Ymir, but it made Historia’s eyes sparkle for a while afterward. The sight was beautiful, how pleased she seemed by the gift. It made Ymir want her, though she argued they could wait before consummating their bond.

Ymir sat back and nodded her head toward Marco, signaling that it was her blood rider’s time to offer their gifts to the blonde.

Marco, Bertholdt, and Porco walked up the steps, and each laid a weapon at the Khaleesi’s feet. Marco gifted a whip with bronze and gold inlay on the handle, Bertholdt offered an akrah balanced for her size, and Porco left a drawstring bow taller than the khaleesi stood.

Perhaps now was a good time to present her gift to her khaleesi. Standing up, Ymir took a step down from the little perch they had been on and signaled Porco to bring her the white horse. The lightest color of the horses owned by the Eotena, rare and more fragile, not meant entirely for war but striking in appearance. She was the pride of the harras owned by Ymir.

With a snap of her fingers, the horse was brought over. Ymir took the reigns, leading the mare slowly over more towards Historia.

“ _A gift for my khaleesi. The pale horse._ ” Ymir stated. Again, Marco would translate. “The khal presents a pale mare for her khaleesi.” At the words, she gave a nod of her head, waiting for a smile or a nod in return. A sign that it was acceptable.

* * *

Historia had been a few steps behind Ymir after being distracted by looking at the Kyojin eggs as she put away the weapons she was gifted. For someone built like her spouse, she moved rather quietly. She supposed it was a good thing for a warrior to be quiet in case something required stealth.

Holding the edges of her dress up off the dirt, she was slightly confused as everyone gathered around her. Had she misunderstood something? Considering she didn’t understand the language, it was entirely possible. For all she knew, she was walking into a death trap. No, Ymir wouldn’t have gone through the trouble of a wedding if she wanted to kill her. She hoped.

Deep blue eyes widened as the horse approached her, lead by the khal. It took everything in her to stay where she was and not back up from the animal. Historia didn’t do well around horses due to an accident as a child when she fell off the back of her uncle’s horse. She was smart enough to know that backing away from it would either displease the khal or her uncle. Neither of which would end well for her.

From her perspective, the horse was indeed beautiful. She was pure white, with big brown eyes that looked equally as terrified of Historia as she was of it.

A shaky hand reached up to touch her as Marco spoke, feeling the warmth radiating from the mare. She seemed so strong but looked so gentle. Maybe this horse wouldn’t be so mean as the horse her uncle owned.

Looking over her shoulder, she found Reiner nearby, then back to Marco, and finally her wife. “What is the word for ‘thank you’ in Eotena?” She asked, stroking the mare.

Reiner was the first to answer, “There is no word for 'thank you’ in Eotena, khaleesi.”

Oh no… Instead, Historia simply smiled, bowing her head to the khal.

Her reaction was acceptable, as the crowd cheered. The new khaleesi was lifted into the air under her arms and placed upon the horse, despite her fear. She had accepted the mare! She hadn’t expected to ride it yet!

With a smile, Zeke came up to his niece’s side, patting the horse. “Please her well, darling.”

Wait–

Everything fell into place in her head. She was off to consummate her marriage with her new wife! No one taught her anything about sex! What was she supposed to do? Yes, she had her first blood, and Zeke had hired a woman to explain to her as vaguely as possible what it meant, but no one had explained to her what would happen on her wedding night! With a man or a woman!

A moment later, they were off to wherever Ymir pleased, to please Ymir. Historia held on the best she could, trying to prepare herself for what was coming mentally.

Once they stopped, Historia slid off her horse as gracefully as possible, looking around at where they had stopped. It was a beautiful cliff face like where they had their wedding ceremony, but it didn’t help her nerves. From what information Sasha told her, the Eotena feared water. 

Why would Ymir pick a place close to the water for what Historia perceived to be an intimate and vulnerable act?

Her fear argued that maybe if she continued to stare off, the entire situation would fix itself. Her wishful thinking never worked for her before, now was no different than any other time, and she knew it.

Hearing the footsteps of her brute of a wife, Historia turned around and looked up to her khal. It didn't matter what she wanted, as the terms of their marriage had been crystal clear in that, but if she ever wanted to see her home, to see her uncle on the throne, Historia knew what had to happen.

* * *

The horse seemed to meet the girl’s standards. Excellent. Strong but not battle strong, definitely better suited for her khaleesi. Ymir tilted her head upwards, feeling pleased that her wife accepted her gift. Her people seemed to agree, finding the act itself something to celebrate. From there, Ymir’s horse, the Red, was brought over.

Advancing towards Historia slowly, as not to completely intimidate her as she reminded her at the moment of a horse, Ymir reached down and picked her up, being surprisingly gentle for someone who was supposed to be a brute. She was placed atop the equine, then walked over and hopped onto her horse.

She wanted to consummate their marriage. Somewhere away from her people, in some sort of consideration towards her wife. That, and her tent was not exactly ready to sleep in or mate. And it wasn’t as if Ymir was going to have Historia in her tent. She did not know her well enough, completely trust her, and was not viewed exactly as a khaleesi. Besides, it was against custom for a khal to share sleeping space with his khaleesi. They would have sex in the khaleesi’s tent, but that was it.

Yet, her first night here, Ymir felt she should have that space to herself, aside from the servants tending to her. For now, they would seal the deal elsewhere, far enough away from the current camp as to not be seen or heard. Ymir began to lead the way, getting the impression that Historia had probably barely ridden a horse from her actions and also to be wary of herself at the moment.

The freckled khal was eager and did not want to injure herself with the blood already rushing to her groin. Something about the displays earlier had turned her on, which she had stated before, though was not understood. As far as she was aware, Sasha had brought up her ‘condition’ to her wife before they married, with Ymir bearing the oddity that was her sex.

Ymir was ‘two sexed,’ a newly dubbed term from her birth. A result of her mother throwing up halfway through the ceremony that would have guaranteed Ymir to be a boy. It only made Ymir’s life more difficult, and while she took up a masculine persona, she had been raised with derogatory female pronouns to remind her of her place. 

As she became khal, she kept the pronouns going, if only to prove a point and remind her people exactly how poorly she was treated.

As they rode for the length of two hundred meters, Ymir signaled her horse to slow down, reaching the overlook of the poison water, also known as the sea. The sun had begun to set, turning the sky a brilliant red and orange as a warm breeze passed by them. 

Ymir helped the blonde down from her perch and gave Historia a moment to look at it herself as she tended to the horses, tying them up to make sure they would not runoff. Not that they would, they were obedient horses the both of them. Still, better safe than sorry, Ymir had been taught. The last thing she would want would be to walk back to camp.

Part of her wanted to admit she found her beautiful. But there was no point to her words should her wife not even understand her. Not to mention she might ask someone what Ymir had said later, should she remember. The khal had a reputation to uphold, not show her soft side for all to see. But she could still offer some sort of gentleness and consideration for the other.

An idiot could see that Historia was nervous and upset. There was still a part of Ymir that didn’t care other than that she wanted her release. 

Making her way over slowly, she tossed off one of the furs that made her pants, walking around the blonde. A hand came up to touch her shoulder, brushing her skin lightly with the backs of her fingers and caressing part of her locks.

This gold color, she had never seen as attached to a human head before, other than those of old age. Even then, the pigment was different. It was beautiful, especially with how the sun was going down and shone against her. Removing another piece of fur, allowing her crotch more space to breathe, she took a deep breath through her nose, then began to untie Historia’s dress. She needed something relatively fast. Her erection brushed against the girl slightly as soon the fabric began to fall, and Ymir caught sight of what looked to be a tear.

She wasn’t completely heartless. Even if she did want just to have sex and let Historia return to her quarters faster to be alone, as well as herself, Ymir couldn’t stand to see her that upset.

So she decided to show that she did know at least one Sinian word.

“No.” She mumbled gently, bringing a hand to her cheek and trying to make eye contact from where she currently peered over. “… No.”

* * *

There was a role Historia played in this. She was the deciding factor between her uncle and the khal. She had to behave like a good wife. Submit to her husband (in her case, wife), never speak unless spoken to, please her wife, somehow give her an heir without committing adultery. That all started with consummating the marriage.

All she had to do was please Khal Ymir. Even that seemed impossible.

Her eyes followed the fur, her cheeks going from pink to red as her heart leapt into her throat. The khal was disrobing. Why didn’t anyone tell her what to do? Trying to figure things out, she nearly jumped when the Eotena leader’s fingers touched her shoulder with a gentle caress.

Another fur to the ground that she could see, as something suddenly brushed up against her back, forcing her eyes wide. That wasn’t something the female body had - not that she would know what a male’s body would have either - but that wasn’t supposed to be there!

The realization came with knowing her virtue would be gone and her body tainted. A useless Reiss bloodline, the last Reiss by name and blood. Her eyes started to well up with tears, though she remained silent. Some part of her brain said to be thankful it wasn’t her uncle doing this; the other shamed her for doing so.

Ymir’s word caught her attention as she looked up to the khal. Did she know a common language? 

“No?” She said again, trying to figure out what the khal was refusing. And Ymir repeated the word.

“Do you speak Sinian?” It was a stretch, but it was worth a try. However, it was for naught. Ymir didn’t answer her.

Perhaps she was giving Historia a way out. She heavily considered it. After all, didn’t she have hundreds of women at her beck and call?

In the end, Historia knew that duty came first. Her uncle wanted the throne, needed the throne, and their marriage was to complete the agreement between them.

She reached up, taking hold of Ymir’s hand to let her know it was alright. She could do this...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yep, not touching the ending scene with a ten-foot pole but I have a quick bone to pick about it - THE SHOW DOES DROGO SO DAMN DIRTY. In the book, he lets her know it's okay to say no, he won't force himself on her. Like I get it, Drogo isn't a good man but damn, the character slaughter is real.

**Author's Note:**

> Updated schedule: I will post on Sundays, with bonus content being published on Tuesdays.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed it! Please leave a comment to let us know what you think! Ofhalsen and I love interacting with readers and look forward to any feedback you might have for us!


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